Wilting
by BansheeSoprano
Summary: When Rose contracts a mysterious mental illness that causes her to confuse her past and her present, John Smith, the metacrisis Doctor, realizes the Doctor is his only hope of saving her. Also feat. Eleven and Martha. Takes place between Wedding of River Song and The Doctor, the Widow, and the Wardrobe. Rated M because of language and for safety.


**A/N: This story is quite a bit different than ones I'm used to writing, and it was very emotional to write. I hope I communicate that same emotion to you lovely readers. This was quite the labor of love and I'm just desperately hoping that it doesn't suck. At least it helped me get out of my writer's block.**

* * *

It's happening again, and still he has no idea what to do about it.

"Hey," she urges, nudging him awake gently with her hand. "Heeeeey. The TARDIS is making those funny noises again." She giggles. "It's odd. Odd. Ood. It's Ood!" Now she's laughing fully, and he forces a chuckle back, because he can't help his instinct to keep humoring her. He loves her too much. "We should go and check her, Doctor. We should."

He sighs and turns over, running his hands over his face. It's about three in the morning. The sheets are rumpled around the bed they share, and he's freezing. She's been doing this a lot, though – throwing off the covers, waking up at odd (Ood? He would be laughing at the thought if he weren't in this situation) hours, insisting he get up with her to check the TARDIS. He might even be able to get used to it.

But they're not on the TARDIS, and he's not the Doctor, no matter how similar he is. He didn't even keep the name. He's been John Smith for the last five years, in a completely different universe. Rose used to know that, no matter how much she struggled with accepting it. Now he's not so sure.

After taking a deep breath, he rolls back over with a smile on his face and says, "All right, love, let's go check it." She jumps off the bed and claps with delight, that heartbreakingly beautiful grin on her face. He follows more slowly, putting on his dressing gown. Impatiently she tugs at his arm.

"You ought to be more worried," she scolds him, looking almost like Jackie. "She's your ship, you know."

It won't be long now, he tells himself. She'll snap out of it soon. Please, please let her snap out of it soon.

They wander the apartment for what seems like hours, John following Rose as she follows the imaginary noises. Every once in a while she looks back at him quizzically, wondering why he isn't more active in this, and each time he smiles at her encouragingly, telling her to go on, that the TARDIS must be talking to her specifically. He shouldn't be doing that, and he knows it. The real Doctor would never have let this go on for so long. John must have too much Donna in him, he supposes.

It's almost five when Rose finally sits on the sofa by the window. Outside, the lights of Pete's London twinkle indifferently, immune to his exhaustion and his fear. He's never stopped calling it Pete's world, even though it's been his and Rose's world for a long time now. She looks at him, mildly disappointed. "She's stopped."

He nods, forcing himself to meet her wide eyes, afraid of the stranger he'll see in them. Not even he can understand what's going on in her mind right now. "Guess she just had a few bumps to work out, then," he reassures her softly. She gets up and hugs him close.

"Doctor," she says in a muffled voice, her face pressed to his chest. "We're gonna travel the stars forever, right? You and me?"

His voice catches in his throat for a moment, and he knows he won't able to reply at first. He'll put her to bed now, and make sure she's well and truly asleep for a few hours at least. She won't be going to work in the morning, but quite honestly, he gave up hope on her returning to normality about a week ago.

"Yeah, we'll be all right," he murmurs, mimicking the nonchalance of the original Doctor. "Let's get some sleep, then – it's a visit to San Francisco tomorrow. Summer of Love and everything."

He's left this long enough. He needs to figure out what's wrong with his Rose and he needs to figure it out soon.

o0O0o

It started out innocently, but just enough to put him on edge a bit. He thought she was doing it on purpose to tease him the first time. It was over breakfast at Jackie and Pete's. The smell of fresh buns and burnt porridge was in the air. Tony was playing with those wooden building blocks, stacking them into a castle of sorts, and the adults were sitting at the table, passing around food. The conversation had been fairly normal: Jackie berating Rose on this choice of nail polish or that party plan, Pete avidly inquiring after John's division of Torchwood, Rose coddling her baby brother. Normal until Rose said, ever so casually, "Doctor, you want to pass me those kippers?"

The momentary silence of surprise was broken by the sudden collapsing of Tony's building blocks. Jackie and Pete automatically looked away awkwardly, knowing the sensitivity of the situation, and Rose clapped her hands to her mouth. "Sorry," she whispered. "I don't know what – I know, I should have remembered, oh, John – "

"It's fine, love," he said gently, a little taken aback, but not offended. He had requested the day after they had been dropped off in Bad Wolf Bay to be called John Smith, wanting to establish himself as at least somewhat different than the original Doctor. He had nothing against the Time Lord, but he didn't want Rose to expect the same things from him and be disappointed.

That was the first time, and he should have realized how foolish it was to think it was the last.

He didn't want to place it as a pattern until it had happened the eighth or ninth time, but by then it was too late to keep denying it. She kept slipping up, calling him Doctor at random intervals, her tone usually so innocuous he wouldn't notice at first. Why should he? He had all the memories of the Time Lord, and it would fit that he was used to answering to that name. Once he processed it, though, it rattled him. At least, it rattled at first. After that it worried him. Then it frightened him. The day she called him Doctor all day long without even a moment of realization was when he began to be genuinely terrified.

With that came the memory slips. She would say something about the TARDIS, as if they were still on it. There'd be a comment here and there like, "We should ask Jack; I'm sure he'd know" or "Could we visit Mickey next? I'm awful to him but I do miss him." He'd let it slide by initially, with maybe a glance to remind her of the time and place, but he knew it was growing worse, whatever it was, and he needed to figure out what to do before too long.

Still, he left it too long, and he regretted it soon after.

o0O0o

It was three A.M. on Boxing Day, and John and Rose had gone to bed after a quiet Christmas together and not a few glasses of wine. John had expected a hearty sleep that night, completely forgetting his wife's growing issues. She hadn't had any slip ups that day anyway. They fell asleep coiled in each other's arms as usual, a candle burning on the windowsill and their last cups of hot cocoa growing cold on the nightstand.

He was awoken by her shaking him awake, a look of absolute panic on her face. "Doctor," she whispered, not offering any recognition when he shook his head. "Doctor, we need to go somewhere in the morning."

"Rose, I'm not – " he tried, but she cut him off.

"I've made all the arrangements. We'll be off. Go back to sleep. I'll pack you a bag. We're going to leave in the morning," she interrupted, ruffling his hair. When he tried to protest, she put her finger on his lips. "It's important, yeah? Really important. Trust me."

He knew he shouldn't, but he did. He went back to sleep, and sure enough, when he woke up at seven the next morning, she had packed his things and was ready to go.

They had taken vacation time from Torchwood already for the winter holidays, so John's qualms about leaving were slightly lessened. It was like taking one grain of sand away from a beach, though, he realized as she drove them to Heathrow. He had deduced that some sort of combination was working in her brain right now: she thought she was with the Doctor, as though Canary Wharf had never happened, and yet something was supplying her with information about her environment. Maybe, he supposed, she was thinking the TARDIS had crashed and they were stuck in London. He didn't particularly want to ask.

His dread increased tenfold when he found out their destination. Rose had gotten them on the next flight to Bergen Airport in Norway.

She had to be taking them to Bad Wolf Bay. There was no other place in Norway that held any significance to them. He'd like to believe that it was some nice surprise vacation to see the sights, but her mental state suggested otherwise.

Why was she _doing _this to him? He couldn't go back there. He had done everything he could to make himself someone separate from the Doctor. He was a man now, a man with a Time Lord's memories, but a man nonetheless. A man who was Rose Tyler's husband, not the one who left her behind on that beach so long ago.

He shook himself as they got situated in the first class cabin. Rose looked out the window, detached and distant. The Rose he knew would never take him back to that place. There was something much darker and stranger going on, and he owed it to her to try and find out what it was. Rose had packed his laptop, thankfully, and he opened the Torchwood files as quickly and discreetly as he could – not quickly enough, though.

"What are you doing, Doctor?" Rose asked suddenly, and he jumped, switching windows as fast as possible so he looked innocuous. Still, she raised an eyebrow, and he braced himself as she said, "Footie pyjamas your new thing, then?"

He mentally sighed with relief as he gestured at the page. "My feet get cold, you know, and I always end up kicking off my socks – "

She giggled. "Odd that you haven't got them already, then."

He couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, suppose so."

She turned back to the window, and he waited a good five minutes before going back to his original intent. Still glancing at her now and again to see if she was watching him, he looked through the Torchwood files, trying to find everything they had on extraterrestrial mental illnesses.

There wasn't much that he didn't already know, and he wasn't surprised. He had an inkling that this had something to do with the Doctor, and Rose's separation from the TARDIS. He hadn't heard of anything of the sort before, but then again, he hadn't checked in with many companions after their time together was over, and Rose was a special case, being in a parallel universe. He'd have to puzzle out this one on his own.

The plane was touching down. He put away his laptop and took a deep breath. It was time to find out just how bad this was. They departed the plane, picked up their luggage, and went out to the pick-up zone where a hired car was waiting for them. Rose didn't say a word the whole time, and John was more than willing to stay silent himself. She did, however, slip her hand into his, and he was as much disturbed by that as he was reassured. Rose never held hands with him, and he understood why: while she was perfectly willing to have him be her husband in every other way, holding hands was something she reserved for the Doctor. He didn't mind. He wanted her to do whatever she needed to do to be as happy with him as she could be. Now, though, he knew she had thoroughly lost John Smith in her mind.

His earlier suspicions were confirmed when the car headed down a vaguely familiar route. If he remembered correctly, it was about fifty miles to Dårlig Ulv-Stranden. Fifty miles to wonder, worry, and wait.

The car ride passed mainly in silence, much like the airplane. It was about halfway to the beach, though, when John heard a sudden intake of breath beside him. He turned to look at Rose, who looked as though she had just woken up. "John," she said urgently, her eyes wide. "John, where are we?"

His breath hitched, caught off guard by her switch back to lucidity. "Rose," he said quietly. "We're in Norway. Something's going on – " He knew he couldn't explain it to her properly without frightening her. She watched him sadly.

"Something's wrong, isn't it?" she asked. "With – with me, I mean."

He breathed in, then took her hands in his. "Listen, Rose, I don't know what's happening to you, but I'm going to figure this out for both of us. You're going to be fine, do you understand me? I'm working on it."

It was too late. The same haze had settled back over her eyes, and she smiled at him. "We're almost there, Doctor."

He sighed and let go of her hands, settling back into his seat. "Yeah, suppose we are, then."

The car pulled up to the beach, which was as deserted as ever. Rose got out, and John reluctantly followed, the wind icy and unforgiving. The driver rolled down his window and looked at John questioningly. "I wait here, then?" he asked in accented English. John didn't trust himself to speak and merely nodded.

The place didn't change. He imagined that if he came back a hundred years from now, Bad Wolf Bay would still be the same cold, gray, dismal place of abandonment and change. It would still be the place where the Doctor had been too slow and too cowardly to tell Rose Tyler that he loved her. It would still be the place where John Smith would be the one to stay with her as the TARDIS disappeared once again. He had never wanted to see it again. Of course he was back.

Rose stood alone a few feet off, looking out on the sea as her hair blew back in the wind. Her back was to him, but he could imagine the look on her face. It was one he'd seen before, and he'd grown even more familiar with it in the past two months. It was too deep of an expression to really pin it to just one emotion, but he called it her Doctor face. There was pain in it, and longing for him, even with a bit of acceptance for what had happened since him. He knew she would never stop loving him, even when she had John to love too.

Maybe that was what was causing this. It might not be any exposure to another planet, or something she'd eaten on the TARDIS. She might have been too much in love with the Doctor this whole time.

No, that wasn't true. Rose was too strong to let that control her like that. There was something far stronger than her mind at work.

"Doctor!" she called, and he went to her, unsure of what to expect. She took his hand and brought him to one specific point on the beach – one he knew all too well. She stood opposite him and looked at him expectantly.

He was at a loss, and that was nowhere near competent to describe what he was feeling. This was where he had had to say goodbye to her after Canary Wharf. "What . . . what do you want me to do?" he asked, his throat dry.

"Say it," she said, nearly in tears herself. "Say it again. Remember, Doctor? 'And, I suppose, if it's my last chance to say it – ' "

" ' Rose Tyler – ' " he finished, almost to himself.

"Finish it," she pleaded. "Finish it, please, Doctor. Finish it." Tears were streaming down her face now.

"I'm not him, Rose," he told her desperately. "Don't ask me to be him, because I won't. I can't. I'm not going to be the one to fix his mistakes."

"Stop it, all right, just say it, will you!" she screamed.

He didn't know what to do. To say it might push her past recovery. It was certainly not what he wanted to do. It wasn't that he didn't love her. If anything, he loved her too much to let the Doctor have her like this.

She turned away from him, running her hands through her hair, crying bitterly. She was almost completely broken. John had never felt fear like this, not even as the Doctor. He couldn't decide, but she was making his mind up for him.

"Rose Tyler," he began again, only just loudly enough for her to hear him. She turned back to face him. "I – "

But he was saved the pain of the words by her collapsing before him.

o0O0o

It's been a week since the trip to Bad Wolf Bay. The trip back wasn't easy, but he got her out of there as quickly as he could. She slipped back to sanity for just long enough to get back to London, even though she slept most of the time and still fell into an episode here and there.

The answer to Rose's problem has been becoming clearer and clearer every day, no matter how reluctant he is to face it. Though he has all the Doctor's memories, he has a human's brain, and he knows he can't remember everything the Time Lord can. Whatever's happening to Rose, the Doctor will know what it is. John has to get her back to him before it's too late.

She's sleeping beside him. It's been an hour since she woke him up to go and check the TARDIS, as she's done every night since their return. The sun is slowly painting the walls of their flat gold from the bottom up. Sleep has been understandably elusive for him.

Today he's going to have to tell Jackie about what's been happening so he can go into Torchwood and find out about the dimension cannon. He's dreading it. They haven't gone to visit Jackie and Pete since breakfast that fateful morning, and John hasn't found a good way to bring up what's going on. But he doesn't want to leave Rose alone, and he has to go to Torchwood.

So when the morning light has completely filled their room about an hour later, John wakes Rose up and tells her she's going to have to sleep for the rest of the morning at her mum's. She's confused, he can tell, but she doesn't object, especially after he mentions something about checking the TARDIS for repairs. He drives her over to Jackie's, and when he knocks on the door, Pete opens it almost instantaneously. He looks like he's on his way out to work. "Rose," he says in surprise, and she blinks at him sleepily. John silently begs for her to not ask who he is, but the way her mind is, he's not going to be surprised if this turns out rather messy.

"Are you – " she asks curiously, breaking off in disbelief.

"It's a long story, Rose," John says hurriedly, interrupting Pete's exclamation. Pete looks at him suspiciously, but shrugs.

"I'm off to work. Come round for dinner soon, all right?" he suggests, his tone more casual than John knows he's feeling.

"Yeah, great," John responds listlessly, nudging Rose into the foyer. Jackie comes down the stairs in her dressing gown and curlers.

"Rose, love!" she exclaims. "Bit early, love, and you didn't say you were coming over, but it's all right, I suppose. Where have you been? We've gone three weeks without really hearing from you."

"It's been busy, Mum," Rose starts, but John quickly intersects.

"What's happening, Jackie, is that I've got to get the TARDIS checked for some repairs, and Rose needs a place to grab some more sleep while I get it worked out. Think she could use the guest room 'til I get back?" He's saying the lies for Rose's benefit, and he's doing what he can to tell Jackie to go along with it with his eyes. By some miracle, she picks up on it, though he can tell how confused she is.

"Yeah, sure, come on up," she says, ushering her daughter and son-in-law up the stairs. John navigates the hallways of the mansion with Rose on his arm and finally picks the Green Room. She's always liked it best; she says it reminds her of the apple grass on New Earth. She smiles at the sight of it now, and he tucks her into the bed tenderly.

"Get some sleep now, yeah?" he murmurs, placing a kiss on her forehead. It's something he's noticed through this whole mess: she sleeps a lot more, and it does her good. She's almost always lucid when she wakes up, for however brief a time. She smiles and closes her eyes obediently.

Jackie's waiting for him when he closes the door. Her arms are folded and she looks furious, but he knows how much fear is behind that. "What's going on?" she demands. "You don't have a TARDIS. She knows that – hell, she knows that better than anyone by now. Is she sick? Is it a fever? Is that what it is? She's just delirious, right?"

"_Jackie_," he says intensely, closing his eyes in impatience. "Stop. Talking." She shuts up. John takes a moment to collect himself, then walks downstairs to the sitting room, not wanting Rose to hear this. Jackie follows anxiously.

He sits down, running his hands through his hair. "It's not a fever, Jackie." He swallows. "I – at least – well – it's . . . it's worse than that."

"John – " she starts, but his expression silences her.

He looks out the window, unable to meet her eyes. He's surprised when he's able to speak somewhat steadily. "She thinks I'm him, you see. Well, no, that's not true. She knows I'm not. But there's something up there that's telling her different. It's taking over. It's muddling what she knows from here with this idea that she's still travelling with him." There goes the steadiness. He stops for a moment, then says softly, "It's getting worse every day."

When he can look at her, Jackie looks incredulous. "But – but you can fix it, can't you?" she says. "You're him – I mean, not really, but you've got him in you. He'd know what to do. John, _help her._"

He shakes his head. "Whatever it is, Jackie, I've forgotten it. It's nowhere in the Torchwood database."

"But you can figure it out, can't you? You're brilliant! For God's sake, you love her! You can't just sit back and let it happen!" she replies, her voices growing more and more hysterical with every word. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"_I don't know!_" he yells, unable to contain it any longer. He buries his face in his hands, his eyes moist. "I don't know," he repeats, almost silently.

He hears a rustling, and Jackie sits beside him, running her hand over his back. He can hear her crying beside him. They're two people who love Rose most in the world, and nothing is more important to either of them than her.

"You have to have some idea," she hiccups. "You wouldn't have told me – I know you better than that."

He nods slowly. "I'm going into Torchwood today to see if the dimension cannon still works. Whatever this is, he . . . he probably knows. I don't give a damn what it takes to get her there, but it's the only chance we've got."

She sighs, regaining control slowly. "Hurry, John. You've never let her down before and I'm not about to let you start now."

He almost smiles. There's the Jackie he knows. "I'll be back once I know. Look after her. She sleeps a lot now, and she probably won't wake up before noon. If she does, though, just try to get her back in bed with a book or something. Don't let her go anywhere."

"But what do I tell her?" Jackie asks, grabbing his arm as he makes for the door.

"Just . . . tell her I know she's tired, so she can sleep here until I'm done with repairs," he fabricates.

"So lie." Jackie isn't resentful. She understands this time. He doesn't really need to confirm that.

"I'll be back as soon as I'm done." He will not leave Torchwood until he is absolutely certain he can get her to the Doctor. Jackie kisses him, which she so rarely does (less often than she slaps him, anyway), and he's gone as soon as possible.

o0O0o

She can't trust her mind when she's awake, so she relies on sleep now, and when she sleeps, she dreams. She dreams of her Doctor and of John, sometimes mixing them up. It's mostly the Doctor, though, and everything she ever did with him. Even in her dreams she can't see John anymore, try as she might to hold onto him. No, instead she sees the London Blitz, and the Slitheens, and the Beast in Toby's eyes . . . Satellite Five, and the Sycorax, even the Nestene consciousness . . . her old Doctor weaves his way into her mind as well, his old blue eyes as sad as ever. She tries to call out to him, wanting to comfort him like she once did, but like John, he's out of her reach . . .

She feels ill, and even more exhausted as the day wears on. Jackie comes in once or twice to check on her, but Rose can't even lift her head, and when she awakes here and there she still thinks they're back in their old world. She knows it's wrong, and her sanity is battling with whatever else is in her mind, but she can't hold out much longer. She's weakening. The madness is strengthening. She's never been more afraid.

At around six, she forces herself back to awareness, and calls out for John. He isn't there, but Jackie comes running, clutching a mug of tea that sloshes everywhere. Rose asks for John, but Jackie tells her he's trying to find a way to fix her. Rose nods, feeling sleep and the mental fog close over her once again. After a swallow of tea she's gone again, and Jackie sits by her bedside, holding her clammy hand.

The last thing Rose knows before she falls back into her dreams is the smell of the dying gardenias on the windowsill.

o0O0o

John doesn't come back until past eleven that night, fatigued but as close to ecstatic as he can be right now. Pete's waiting for him in the kitchen, and from the look on his face, John can safely infer that Jackie has kept him up to date. That's good; he doesn't really want to explain the entire situation again. "So," Pete starts anxiously, "did you manage it?"

John smiles as he opens the fridge and takes out the carton of Tony's chocolate milk. "We're in a bit of luck." He takes a deep swig straight from the carton. Pete doesn't even say anything. He, too, is past the point of caring. "There's one last sliver left in the universe. They didn't say anything at first; it's unstable and they've been doing what they can to try and close it." He takes another swallow. "But they reconsidered when they . . . well, realized the gravity of the issue."

"And the dimension cannon?" Pete's headed to the liquor cabinet, and John doesn't blame him for wanting something a little stronger than chocolate milk.

"Still in working order. As if they were going to give that one up so easily." John smiles wryly. "How is she?"

Pete hesitates a moment with his back to John, a bottle of brandy in his hand. "She got worse, Jackie said. She's sick now, and it's overtaking her more – when she wakes up, she's gone again, in her mind."

John runs his fingers through his hair. "I'm getting her out of here tonight. I can't afford to wait any longer. _She _can't afford to."

Pete nods. He's made his mistakes in the past, but he loves Rose, and he's willing to do whatever it takes to save her. "Will you bring her back?" he asks haltingly. "Whatever happens, you understand that Jackie won't ever forgive you if you don't bring her back."

John sighs. "I'll do what I can."

Pete bows his head. "I can't ask for more than that."

A few minutes later, he's upstairs checking on his wife. Right now she's sleeping soundly, and he doesn't want to wake her. The smell of Jackie's gardenias is almost overpowering, and he curses his mother-in-law for her ridiculous housekeeping, but takes it back when he sees her asleep in the chair next to Rose's bed. At least her mother was here to watch over her.

Loath as he is to disturb her, he has to wake her up. The sooner they get to the Doctor, the better. He wakes Jackie first. "It's time," he says softly.

She understands, and her eyes widen. "I'll wake her up, then," she whispers.

Rose stirs unwillingly, and Jackie helps her sit up. "Rose, love," she says as cheerily as possible. "He's back. Time to get a move on."

Eyes still closed, Rose mumbles, "But Mum, why can't I sleep just a bit longer? It's not like he's crazy enough to make us leave in the middle of the night."

"Please, Rose – "

"My fault," John interrupts. "Sorry, Rose, but we need to get a move on. Distress signal from another planet and all . . . and the TARDIS is a good distance away."

She opens her eyes now and smiles at him. "Well, then, you're going to have to carry me, you big idiot, because I'm too sleepy for this."

He grins back. "We'll go piggyback, then. Say goodbye to your mum. It might . . . well, it might be a while this time."

Jackie surveys him warily, but knows there's no arguing to be done. She kisses Rose gently on the forehead, and Rose looks surprised but gratified. "I love you, sweetheart," she tells her daughter, and it isn't sappy, but almost matter-of-fact, and John has to admire the strength of the Tyler women. "Just keep that in mind."

Rose looks up at her mother bemusedly. "Always do, Mum."

Jackie nods. "And you, Joh – Doctor. Watch out for yourselves, all right?"

He swallows. "Got it covered, Jacks."

o0O0o

The dimension cannon is fired up and ready to go at the last little break between the universes, and it figures that it would be back here. After vowing never to come back here again, John is stuck at Dårlig Ulv-Stranden for the second time in a month. He and Rose have just been dropped off by the Torchwood helicopter, and as soon as John receives the signal from Pete, he'll push a button and they'll be back.

Torchwood's been refining the dimension cannon, and that's an understatement. It's gone from being an awkward process of surrounding electrodes and glaring spotlights to just pointing a little apparatus at the right point in the sky. Funny, really – it looks a little like the sonic screwdriver.

Rose is hanging on his arm, happy in that same sort of glazed way. She thinks this is some alien teleport to get the TARDIS. John wonders how happy she'd be if she knew the truth. She's seriously mentally ill, but they're going back to her world, and to her Doctor. Given the choice, she would have stayed with him, and no matter how dire her circumstances, she's returning. John wonders if it would be worth it to her.

No. There's no sense in thinking that way. He's getting her back there nonetheless.

With a squeeze on her hand, he pushes the button on the cannon and shuts his eyes as tightly as they will go. There's a slight sensation, like he's being pushed through an icy waterfall, and he supposes it's the exposure to the Void, but it's over in a heartbeat and the feeling is replaced by the swirling snowy wind of their home universe. John opens his eyes and realizes they've landed in London, by some bizarre convenience, and what's even odder is the fact that they're standing right in front of the Powell Estates. In his hand, the dimension cannon sparks and burns out. There'll be no getting back now.

It's got to be around midnight or so. The street is deadly quiet and illuminated silver by the lights and snow. Rose shivers, and John holds her closer to him. She looks up at him, and her dazed smile from before is gone - perhaps she's lucid for another moment. His hope is confirmed when she murmurs, "This is so strange. Do you think we'll find him here? John - " He braces himself when he hears the panic in her voice, certain she's slipping back, but she stays with him. " - he could be anywhere in time and space. Why are we _here_?"

He strokes her hair. "I'm going to get us to Martha, okay? She's the best bet we have. I know what I'm doing, love." He planned this out a while ago. Martha Jones, the one who left him of her own free will, is one of the few people to whom he can still turn in times like these.

She nods, regaining control, or so he thinks for a moment. He realizes differently when she says, "Oh, I don't want to be here, Doctor. Can't we go back to Paris? You said we could meet Edith Piaf sometime, didn't you?"

He sighs. "TARDIS is still a little bit shaky, Rose. It's okay though. I've got a friend we can stay with for a bit."

"Sarah Jane?" she asks hopefully. He shakes his head.

"No, but you'll like Martha. Allons-y." The catchphrase makes her smile, sending pain through his heart.

It takes a while, but they manage to catch a cab to Martha's apartment. John hopes desperately that she's still living there. Luckily Pete's world still uses the same currency as this one, and he doesn't have to worry about that bit.

When they get out, Rose is chattering avidly about how much she just wants a nice vacation trip once the TARDIS is fixed, and can they please go to Carnaval or one of those pleasure planets he's always mentioning or even the Moulin Rouge? He deflects her questions easily, leading her up to the door, and tells her to hush for a moment as he knocks.

Martha answers the door after what seems like a century, rubbing sleep out of her eyes and putting on a thick flannel dressing gown. She's wearing her hair in braids now, and she looks fitter than ever. UNIT has been good for her. "Doctor?" she asks in bewilderment. "But I thought you - " She stops mid-sentence when she sees Rose.

"It's a bit of a story, Martha, and I'd much rather get us inside first," he says pressingly. "Please trust me. There's some very sensitive subject matter I need to discuss with you."

"But wh - "

"Hello," Rose interjects brightly. "You must be Martha. I'm Rose."

Martha stares at her in surprise. "Yes, I know, we've - " But she's silenced by a look from John. "Yes, it's nice to meet you too. Come in, I suppose." She ushers them inside, where John is relieved to feel the rush of heating hit him. London in the winter is brutal. "Doctor, you come fix tea with me in the kitchen. Rose, go ahead and park in the sitting room, if you like." Rose, luckily, complies, and John follows Martha into the little galley kitchen. Martha turns on him as soon as the door is shut.

"What the bloody hell is going on, Doctor?" she demands, eyes flashing. "How come she doesn't know me? Why are you back here? How did you get Rose back - and _why _- "

"I'm not him," John interrupts, knowing it's the only way to get a word in. "Not the Doctor."

"_What?"_

"Oh, come on," he says impatiently. "You remember." He holds up his right hand. "Handy?"

Realization comes over her face. "But he was going to leave you. He told me. You were going back to the parallel universe to live with Rose."

"He did. There have been . . . complications."

She puts the kettle on. "Doctor, I know that look. Something's very wrong." She purses her lips. 'It's the same look I saw on your - I mean, his face last time we saw him."

"We? And don't call me Doctor. I'm not him. I'm John."

She folds her arms. "John, then. I mean Mickey and me."

"Mickey _Smith_? Are you together or - " He spies the sparkling emerald on her left ring finger. "You're joking."

She smiles wryly. "Yeah, well . . . anyway, we were hunting some Sontaran and before we know it, it's shot down in front of us and we see him up on some balcony, just standing there, like . . . "

John knows. He's done it too many times before. "Like he was saying goodbye." He runs his fingers through his hair. "Brilliant. He's gone and regenerated."

"Doct - John," she says quietly. "What complications are you talking about? Why are you here? Is it Rose?"

He sighs. "Something's tampering with her memory - no, it's bigger than that. It's become hallucinations, and she's sick on top of it. I don't know what it is, or I just can't _remember_ . . . and I'm hoping he will."

Martha looks stunned, but she wraps her arms around him, and he hugs her back, realizing how much he's missed his old friend. "She can't remember me, can she?" she asks. "Or - or you, then."

He disengages from the hug as he shakes his head. "You still got the TARDIS number in your phone?"

"Never planning on taking it out. I'll go grab it." She raises her eyebrows. "Good thing Mickey's out for the week, then . . . that could have been an awkward encounter."

He snorts. "Yeah, just a bit."

Martha leaves for her bedroom, and John pokes around in the kitchen until he finds the teabags and mugs. When the kettle whistles, he pours plenty for the three of them and grabs some biscuits as well. For some reason, he's famished. He'll have to find some chips later or something. He makes a tray and brings it out to Rose, who is flipping through a nature magazine. She accepts the mug of peppermint tea gratefully. "This is nice. We could stay for a while, if you need, except I don't get why we're not just bunking with my mum."

"Wanted to visit an old friend," John lies, keeping his tone light. Surreptitiously, he surveys the flat for signs of Mickey, blessing Martha silently for her aversion to nostalgia. There's not a wedding picture in sight.

Martha emerges from the bedroom then, holding the mobile phone. John takes it immediately and proceeds back into the kitchen, gesturing to Martha at the other mug of tea. As quickly as possible he's dialing the old number, hoping beyond hope that the new Doctor hasn't discarded Martha's old phone as he closes the door. It rings once . . . twice . . . three times . . . "Martha Jones, is that you?"

Completely new voice. John can only imagine the face that goes with it, and the new personality. He wonders what this will be like - a conversation with (almost) himself. "Not exactly."

He has the satisfaction of hearing the breath hitch on the other end of the line, knowing there's a smooth recovery in process. "How'd you manage to get back, Handy?" the Doctor asks nonchalantly.

"Seems there was one little split in the universe left, and you'll never guess where."

"Bad Wolf Bay."

"The very same."

He hears a sigh. "What do you want? Did you leave Rose there all on her own, then?" John knows he's not imagining the odd inflection on Rose's name, and is glad to realize there's still a bit of pain associated with that.

"You'd expect that from me?" he challenges.

"I don't know what I'd expect. I'm not you anymore. It's not the same thing." There's a pause. "But something's got to be wrong. I know that much. You wouldn't just come over here on a whim, no matter how much you changed over there. It's not in your nature."

John considers lying for a moment, feeling this inexplicably masochistic desire to taunt this other version of himself, but every second he wastes is a second Rose gets worse. "You're right. It's Rose."

The silence on the other line makes John imagine all kinds of things, but he desperately hopes there's enough of a reaction to make the Doctor help him. "What's happening, then?"

Breathing a silent sigh of relief, John replies, "I don't know exactly. It's her mind . . . or at least, mostly. She's gotten sick too - feverish and sleepy. Her memory's a mess and she's started hallucinating too." He hesitates. "She thinks she's still with you."

"You're me, though," the Doctor says carefully. "Why do you need my memory when you already have it?"

"I'm a man, not a Time Lord." John's impatience is increasing. "I have your memories, but I can't hold onto them the same way."

"So you came all this way to find out if I could do what you couldn't."

"You know as well as I do that she's worth it."

Another pause. John knows he's getting to him. "You're with Martha, then?"

"Her apartment."

"Give me a moment."

John hangs up and is surprised by the loss he feels at the sounds of the TARDIS appearing in Martha's flat. He hasn't missed being the Doctor - he's done enough of his own soul-searching and whatnot to be safe from that - but the TARDIS is another matter entirely. As he flings open the door, he's greeted by the ever-familiar sight of the bluest blue known to any eyes and is almost moved to tears.

Rose appears on the other side and walks to him. "You got her fixed, then?"

John smiles and nods. "We'll be off soon, then."

Her face clears for a moment, and she puts her hand on the TARDIS. "Hey, old girl," she says softly, and John can see her sanity's returned to let her say hello to her old friends. "John, where is he?"

As if on cue, the door opens, and out walks a tall, skinny man with virtually no eyebrows, long and messy brown hair, and a tweed waistcoat. He regards John warily, but there's no caution in the look he gives Rose, who seems surprised to see him regenerated, but knows enough to accept it as it is. "Rose Tyler," the Doctor says warmly, almost smiling. "Lovely as ever, I see."

"Doctor," she says wonderingly, reaching up to touch his face. He catches her hand and holds it there on his cheek. John feels a surge of jealousy, but he holds back. He expected this and he'll have to live with it. "You're here." She smiles, noticing his attire. "In a bowtie."

"I wear a bowtie now. Bowties are cool." He's trying to make her laugh, but John can detect the hollowness of his tone. He's probably noticed all manner of things now: the warmth of her hand, the flush in her cheeks, the daze that's slowly settling back in. He drops her hand, and just in time. Rose tilts her head.

"Doctor," she says with a frown, but now she's talking to John. "Who's this?"

John thinks fast. "Another old companion of mine. He's called Bill. He'll be with us for a little bit, if that's all right."

Rose looks the Doctor over. "Fine with me."

The Doctor shakes his head at John. "You were right." Before John can even blink, the Doctor's whipped out his sonic screwdriver and knocked Rose out with the push of a button. She falls comfortably into John's arms. "But there are a few too many changes to keep lying to her."

John keeps his fury in check as he arranges her so he's holding her bridal style. "That wasn't necessary."

"It may have been," Martha rebukes him, and he jumps - he forgot she was there. The Doctor beams at her.

"Martha Jones! Been a while since I saw you. How're things with Mickey? UNIT? And baby?"

"Baby?" she exclaims.

"Oh, dear, it's 2010. Probably should not have said that. Ignore everything that comes out of my mouth from now on. Must be going anyway. John, come on, and bring Rose. We've got to work this out on board. Martha, lovely to see you. Call for tea sometime." The Doctor turns into the TARDIS, and John follows, taking in the sight of his old ship. She's changed drastically, and he imagines the shock of "it's bigger on the inside" is even more resounding these days.

"You're alone, then?" John asks the Doctor as he punches coordinates into the console. The Doctor slows for a moment.

"For a little while. I had these friends - but they've got lives of their own. They think I'm dead right now, actually."

John raises his eyebrows. "How'd you manage that?"

The Doctor resumes his furious piloting. "Long story, really, between the Silence, and the moon landing, and River Song being, well, that's one you don't really need to know, with a little bit of Hitler and a Minotaur thrown in - I don't really think we need to go into it." John smiles to himself. This regeneration was even more keen to avoid sensitive subjects than the last.

"Where do you want me to put her?" he asks, holding up Rose. The Doctor gestures to the hallway behind him.

"The TARDIS may have shifted a bit, but she kept a few things the same . . . including Rose's room. I've put something in the room that should keep her illness at bay for at least a few hours. We'll move on from there when she wakes up."

John nods to the Doctor and departs.

o0O0o

Rose wakes up and she doesn't know where she is, even though the room has a sense of familiarity to it. When it hits her, she can't believe it took her so long to recognize it, because nothing has changed since the day she left. She looks around in wonder at all the little odds and ends of her room, remembering the incidents and accidents behind each knickknack. The sari from ancient India, where she had almost ended up married to a maharajah . . . the coral from the Galligiphapato Sea, where they had found a tiny tribe of turtle/seahorse hybrids . . . the brittle rose petals from the Skygardens in the clouds, where the Doctor had gotten food poisoning off of the native honey . . . she's never thought she'd see these things again, and yet here she is. Idly, she wonders where John is, then decides with only a twinge of guilt that she doesn't want to know. He's done enough for her, and he needs rest. She's going to go find the Doctor.

Lucky, really, because when she passes the bedroom across from her, clutching her blanket around herself, she can see John sprawled on the bed, dead asleep. She watches him for a moment, seeing him clearly for the first time in what feels like months. She's afraid of what this has been like for him: her beautiful, lost husband, made from the man she had loved, forgotten by the only one who truly understood him in favor of that same man he had come from. John wants so desperately to be someone different from the Doctor, and this has to be brutal for him. She loves him so much. To hurt him hurts her.

But the Doctor is waiting.

With one final glance, she makes her way to the control room, pulling her hair into a side braid. She must look awful, she reflects with a grim amusement. To even think about that seems ludicrous right now.

The TARDIS has changed so much. She's spaced out, and inside she seems brighter, glowing with a kind of golden light that certainly wasn't there before. If possible, she's even more beautiful. Rose loves it. It's changed, yes, but it's still the place of her adventures, and the place where her life changed forever, and now it seems to reflect more of that than the darkness the Doctor had had before.

Speaking of the Doctor . . .

The doors are wide open, and as she walks closer, Rose can see they're in orbit over a dying star. The sight is fantastic: unimaginable colors in swirls and streaks of light, spinning out to meet the rest of the universe in their last moments. The Doctor sits on the doorstep, his feet dangling in space, his back to her. She watches him, seeing a sadness present that not even John knew. Even more has happened to him since they stopped the Daleks last. Has he traveled with anyone else? Has he loved anyone else? Does it matter? The questions hurt her head, and she closes her eyes, trying to drive them out. She doesn't need to know. It was a long time ago when she said she would stay with him forever. The choice was made for her, and she's had to live with it. She's grown out of it, she's moved on. She has John.

But deep in her heart she knows it's never been enough.

_He's like fire and ice and rage. He's like the night and the storm in the heart of the sun. He's ancient and forever. He burns at the center of time and can see the turn of the universe, and . . . he's wonderful._

She sits down beside him on the doorstep, watching him. He doesn't look at her, and stares straight into the star, transfixed. There's even more pain on his face than she saw before. She almost feels invasive seeing it, but she doesn't flinch or look away. She's spent too long away from him, and she doesn't plan on separating herself from him in any way.

It seems like an eternity before he speaks, albeit a comfortable one, one she doesn't mind waiting. But he does speak. "Has it been okay, with you and him? Off in that parallel universe of yours?"

Now it's her turn to look at the star. Even in its death it burns fantastically bright. "I suppose, yeah, working for Torchwood and all. It's life. It's almost - well, normal."

She can feel his gaze on her. "Got married, then?"

"For about two years, yeah."

"Got any . . . ?"

She looks at him again, a questioning smile on her face. He doesn't seem to be able to say it. She wonders why. "No, no kids. Not yet, I suppose."  
He nods, and they turn their eyes back to the star.

After a while, she tries again. "So. Anyone been around since Donna, then?"

He looks up, but not at her. "There were a few. Amelia Pond. You'd like her. Bit of a fireball. And her husband, Rory. Rory the Roman. We had our fun, but you know . . . things happened. They always happen."

She knows he's leaving something - or someone - out. "Who else, then?"

His pause is so long it almost makes her think he won't answer her. "There was . . . River."

"The one who says she's your wife." He looks at her in surprise. "John told me about her - when you met her in the library. But she died."

"It's a bit complicated, really."

"I see." She considers. "Do you love her?"

He thinks for a moment. "I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"It's been strange with River. Things have been misunderstood, and warped, and so, so, _so _confusing . . . it wasn't easy. Not like . . . "

She wants him to say it. She wants him to tell her he loved her, at least at one point in time. But she knows she can't force him into it. So she stays quiet, and the only sound is the star exploding and the gentle hum of the TARDIS engines.

"Doctor," she says softly. "What's wrong with me?"

He takes her hands, and finally something is direct between them. He stares into her eyes intensely, making sure his meaning his delivered soundly. "Listen to me, Rose Tyler. Nothing is wrong with you. Nothing has ever been wrong with you in your entire life. There is something different inside you that is just making you less of you. I'm doing what I can to get rid of it. But I need you to hold on for me, because the moment you lose faith in yourself is the moment I lose you."

She stares right back at him, her glare fierce. "And that matters to you?"

He's shocked, to her satisfaction. "How can you say something like that?"

"You don't need me anymore. You haven't needed me in a long time - that's why you _left _me, isn't it? You had the chance to have me back, but no, you stuck me right back in Pete's world with this hollow version of you, and went off and had someone else - "

"_Stop_." It isn't the word that cuts her off, but the sheer amount of hurt in his voice. She's wounded him. Guilt hits her, but she can't stop. There's so much racing through her mind.

"You left me, and now here I am, all fucked up like no one's business and you haven't even been there to help me." She's surprised she isn't crying, but tears are far from her reach. "I said forever and I meant it. I even came back to get it from you. _Why_?"

"Just _stop_!" he yells, and stands, storming back into the TARDIS. "Do you even know what you're saying, Rose Tyler? Do you have any idea what happened to _me_? Do you think I _wanted _to leave you there with my clone, the lucky bastard who got to keep you? There was nothing I wanted more than to take you right back with me and go back to the way things were, but that's not how life works. You take what you get. There are sacrifices you have to make. And I had to sacrifice you." He puts his hands on the console and exhales. "And it was the hardest thing I've ever done."

She can't help herself. She walks to him, all anger gone, and takes his face in her hands. "I'm here now," she whispers, and now those tears have found her, sliding down her cheeks. "I don't want to leave you again."

He holds her to him, and it's as if she never left. Even in this new body, there is no one in all of time and space he loves to hug more.

Even in another two hundred years of living, there is no one in all of time and space he loves the way he loved her.

o0O0o

"I've found it."

It's been three days, and John and the Doctor are in the library together, poring over volumes to try and find the answer. The Doctor's temporary cure for Rose is wearing off, and she's back to sleeping most of the day, with her fever at a dangerous level. Whenever John's not in here with the Doctor, he's with her, feeding her soup, wiping her forehead, changing her pyjamas, having her drink tea. She hasn't called him anything but "Doctor" since yesterday morning.

Now, though, they've been on break, and the Doctor has seemingly made his announcement out of nowhere. John looks at him in disbelief. "Found what?"

"What it is. What's bothering her. What's making her sick. I've found it and I should have known it all along. You too."

"Probably. You should explain anyway."

The Doctor stands and begins to pace across the library floor. "Satellite Five. The game shows. Emperor of the Daleks. I sent her away and she found a way to come back."

"She looked into the Time Vortex."

"She absorbed the Time Vortex, and it almost consumed her."

"But I - we - you absorbed it from her. You regenerated. We stopped any effects."

"No." The Doctor buries his head in his hands. "It doesn't work like that. And we know that."

"What do you mean?"

"Because you can feel it inside you right now."

John opens his mouth to protest, but stops. The Doctor's right. Even in his human form, he's always had that, and after a while, he realized what it was - the part of the TARDIS that was part of him, too. A piece of the Time Vortex in his mind that made him the Doctor still.

The Doctor nods. "She's got it too. I couldn't get rid of all of it, but I did what I could to make sure it never resurfaced. It was just enough that it would start to eat at her mind, little by little, until . . . "

"Until?"

"Until there was nothing left."

He knew that was going to be the answer. Why had he bothered to ask?

The Doctor looks at him with more feeling than he's cared to show toward him before. "Something must have triggered it. It would take far too much digging to find out what, exactly, but it's too late now anyway."

John snaps back to reality. "Too late?"

"I'll do what I can, but - "

"No. You're going to do more than that. You're going to save her. We're going to save her together. There's a way, because there's always a way. We Just have to think. We haven't let anything defeat us like this before."

The Doctor regards him sadly. "You're wrong. _You_ haven't."

They've become too different. There's too much age difference, too much suffering that John hasn't seen or known. The Doctor knows where things stand. He can recognize defeat when he sees it. John's despair overwhelms him, and he has this uncontrollable urge to deny everything, to keep searching for a way to help her even if it kills him. But he knows that would hurt him, and Rose, even more.

"How long?" he asks.

The Doctor looks away. "Two days."

o0O0o

They don't know what to do. Neither of them has a single clue. To tell her, or to not to tell her - both seem cruel, not to just her, but to both of them as well. Both feel like they're entitled to some sort of goodbye, at least, but what to say to the woman who saved your life? The woman you love (or loved, as the Doctor is still trying to maintain in his mind) more than anyone or anything across time and space?

The fever is consuming her now, and not even the TARDIS can mitigate her. Every time John goes in to check on her, she's bundled in every blanket they could find and still shivering. Reality is almost too much for her, even in her altered mind, and she spends most of the time in a fitful sleep, mumbling and tossing. John can hardly bear to see her this way. It feels like it's eating him from the inside out.

Then suddenly, she calls for him.

"John!" Her shout is weak and hoarse, but he's been waiting by her door for hours now. She's awake now for the first time in hours, and she's looking around in fright. "John, please."

Not the Doctor. It's him she wants.

Swallowing, he enters with as much of a smile as he can muster. "Hey," he says, trying to make the word light, but it sounds like a lead brick would sound if it were a word.

She looks up at him with so much vulnerability etched in her face that he can't even look at her. He stares at his shoes instead. "John," she whispers. "How long?"

He knows what she's asking. He can't answer. He screws up enough courage to look at her, and she nods and looks away. "Not long, then," she says with casualness that could rival the Doctor, sitting against the headboard.

He sighs, then gestures at the bed. "May I?"

She looks back at him and nods, scooting over to make room for him. He sits next to her, and she puts her head in his lap. He pushes her hair back from her face, wincing at how warm she is, and puts his hand on her shoulder, moving his thumb back and forth. She's shaking so badly. "Want to watch a movie?" he asks, trying to make it easier for both of them. She nods, and he grabs the remote from the nightstand, turning her TV on the opposite dresser to Netflix. "Any requests?" She shakes her head. He puts on _Maid in Manhattan_, knowing it's her favorite, and they sit in silence together, letting Ralph Fiennes, Jennifer Lopez, and her sassy little son to occupy their minds for a little while.

When Jennifer Lopez floats down the stairs all dressed up for the ball, Rose says, "That's just stupid, though."

"What is?" John asks, surprised. She's never said anything against this movie in the entire time he's known her.

"That she has to try this hard for him. That she has to make herself different. That's stupid." She's quiet a moment. "Why do people have to go and make things so difficult?"

He smiles. "Because it's not as easy as having a blue box show up on your doorstep with a man who says who'll show you all of time and space."

"No," she retorts. "That just makes things even worse, really. Because then you end up changing without even thinking about it, or maybe without wanting to. And you wake up one morning and realize everything's all fucked up and you can't do shit about it. Nothing ended up where you wanted it to and suddenly you're dying and your life's been a mess."

Her words are disarming, and all too effective. "You would give it up?" he asks quietly, almost not wanting to hear her answer.

"Maybe I would," she replies bitterly. "I don't know."

He pauses the movie and gets up. She doesn't look at him. "You should get some rest," he tells her with as much indifference as he can manage. "I'll bring you some tea later."

It's probably just wishful thinking, but when he closes the door behind him, he hears the sound of a muffled sob.

o0O0o

She can't believe she said that to him. Those words have never crossed her mind before, and she didn't mean them even now. To give up the Doctor? John? To give up the worlds she saw and the people she met for her old life? To give up the way she changed and grew into someone more than she had ever dreamed of being? But she's afraid now. She's never been more frightened. And that same fear is cutting into her and making her hurt the only two people she has left.

They'll forgive her, she has no doubt. But whether she'll be able to forgive herself is another matter entirely.

_Maid in Manhattan _is frozen on the screen with Ralph Fiennes' face in some odd contortion. Rose doesn't want to look at it anymore. How has this been her favorite movie? It's gushy and ridiculous. She's seen better. Funny, how she's finally growing out of it now. She grabs the remote and turns off the TV, turning her face to the ceiling and listening to the hum of the TARDIS engine.

"Did you miss me, old girl?" she whispers. "That why you kept my old room?" Maybe she's just imagining it, but for a moment the TARDIS hums a little louder, and she smiles. "I missed you too." She exhales. "I guess this is it for me."

Now she knows she isn't imagining it. There's a whining in the engines - no, it's more like a song. A lullaby, maybe. "You're the only one I haven't pushed away yet." She closes her eyes. "At least we're back together in the end - you and me."

She's not sure why her mind is clear again. Maybe it's the desperation. Maybe the TARDIS is fighting that part off. But she knows she won't be delirious anymore - not until this is all over.

Sleep isn't coming back to her for a while at least. She gets up and goes to the bathroom, ignoring the sight of herself in the mirror. For once, Rose Tyler doesn't give a damn how she looks in front of the Doctor or her husband. She has to make good, not make love.

Wrapping one blanket around her, she walks to the control room, seeing the Doctor and John on opposite sides of the console, saying nothing to each other but flying the TARDIS together like they've been working together all their lives. In a way, she supposes, they have. "Where off to this time?" she asks, and only the Doctor looks at her. John hesitates, but he keeps his focus on the TARDIS. Rose cringes. She's gone too far.

"Not really sure," the Doctor replies. "Depends on you, really."

She considers. One last journey, then. But where? And when?

"London. 2005."

Now John looks at her in sharp surprise. The Doctor seems wary as well. "What do you want from there, Rose?" he asks cautiously.

She looks at John and smiles. "Don't worry. I'm not planning on changing a thing. I just want to see something."

So it's London that's punched into the coordinates, and they land on a rooftop overlooking a dingy alley by the London Eye. Rose gets out and shivers even more in the cool night air, but there's a smile on her face. If there's one thing she wants to relive at the end of her life, it's the best choice she ever made. She lays down near the edge and props her elbows up on the edge to look down where she knows she'll see a familiar blue box appearing soon.

The Doctor sits beside her, looking down as well. "Funny choice, this."

She shrugs. "I don't think so."

_VWOORP. VWOORP. _There she is. The TARDIS, younger than the one behind her, materializes with the light flashing as always. Out flies a young man in absolute terror, followed by a girl in an ugly sweatshirt with too much makeup and long blonde hair. She goes to comfort the young man, and he points at the TARDIS accusingly. Rose watches fondly, wondering how Mickey is now. She hopes he's happy. He's certainly different - hardly the cowardly lump he was here.

After a moment John sits beside her too, watching the scene with equal interest. The blonde girl below is talking now as the young man clings to her - talking to a man standing in the doorway of the TARDIS. It's a face Rose hasn't seen in a long time, and one she didn't expect to see again. She's missed it dearly, though she's no less fond of the two faces that followed. She looks on either side of her, seeing all three Doctors she's known and loved. How odd.

How Ood.

They can hardly hear the conversation down in the alley, but they don't need to. The man in the doorway shrugs as he makes the girl an offer, but she gestures back at him, telling him she can't. There's too much to be done here. She's afraid of leaving. She's got her mum and her boyfriend, and even though it isn't much, it's her life. "He's more disappointed than he looks," says the Doctor with a grin. "He's been alone a bit too long."

The door closes, and the TARDIS disappears. The blonde girl watches the spot where it was for a moment, then helps the young man up. They start to walk away, and the young man is flustered and trying to regain his dignity. The blonde girl ignores him. They're almost out of the alley when the engines sound again behind them. The girl whirls around, and there's almost hope on her face. There's that blue box again. The door opens once more.

"You came back," Rose murmurs. "Why did you come back for me?"

"Because you wanted to go," John and the Doctor say in unison. The Doctor adds, "You just didn't know it yet."

The girl kisses the young man on the cheek with a snarky remark Rose has never forgotten. It was meaner than she intended. She should have apologized long ago, but it's too late now.

The girl's running now for the TARDIS, and the man in the doorway is smiling as widely as she is. The doors close behind them, and the TARDIS disappears again, this time with Rose Tyler.

The young man watches for a moment in obvious disbelief, then turns away, maybe to go find Jackie. Rose rolls over and looks at the sky. Even in the middle of the city, there's one star to be seen. She knows that right now, there's a nineteen-year-old version of her off to the end of the world, about to be almost incinerated and introduced to life forms she never expected to see. That same nineteen-year-old would never have seen herself here.

"Is Mickey all right?" she asks the Doctor, but it's John who answers.

"He's working for UNIT. He's fine. Married, actually."

"To who?" Rose exclaims.

"Martha Jones, believe it or not."

Rose can't help it - she starts to laugh. "Little ironic, that."

The Doctor smiles. "I would think you'd be used to it by now."

She watches the star twinkle dimly, covered by a thin layer of smog. "I've learned not to get used to anything." She takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry, you know - to both of you. I've said things recently . . . . things I never should have even thought." They both try to protest, but she doesn't want this to be easy. She can't let them forgive her just because she's sick. It doesn't work like that. "Stop it, both of you. I know you better than that. You'll pretend to forgive me, but you won't forget, really, and then . . . " There's a lump in her throat now. Fantastic. "I'm not letting you remember me like that."

They sit there together in silence for a while. Rose doesn't say anything, but she can feel it growing worse. The fever's intensified, and her head feels heavy. All she wants to do is sleep, but she can't let this moment slip away. She's let too many by. They're too few now for her to try saving them now, but she can sure as hell try. She takes the hands of the men next to her, "Stay," she whispers, and they both look at her. They hadn't meant to do anything else.

o0O0o

It's the beginning of the end. Rose is back sleeping in her room, if it can be called sleeping, and John and the Doctor are at her bedside, watching her faithfully. Occasionally one of them will get up to try to get her to have some soup, or wipe her forehead, but both of them know there's no point. They're just trying to delay the inevitable.

The delirium has returned, and in her sleep, Rose talks to the Doctor - not the one that's here, but the ones she once knew. She shouts about Slitheens, tells Harriet Jones to run . . . tells the Beast to go to hell . . . flirts with Captain Jack Harkness. The Doctor wishes he'd brought Jack for her, and Mickey. They should know. They should be here for her. To go and find them now, though, would mean leaving her side, and he simply can't bring himself to do that.

As for John, he thinks of Jackie, and his promise to Pete. He knows better than to think he can get back with the dimension cannon. Jackie will never see her daughter again. When he thinks of their goodbye, he realizes she already knew that was a possibility. Pete was naive enough to believe there was a chance, but Jackie knew the way things would probably go. John hopes she'll be all right in the end. He'll try to tell them somehow.

The day wears on. It seems interminable. To wish for it to go any faster, though, seems the cruelest thing either of them can do, and they hold on to the time they have left. Every time she wakes up, she begs them desperately not to leave her, and every time they reassure her that they won't. They can't.

It's late in the evening when her request changes. She wakes up, and for a moment the universe seems calm. She looks at the Doctor with absolute focus and tranquility. "John," she says, "could you leave us for a moment?"

It breaks his heart, but how can he say no to her? He kisses her on the forehead and leaves the room, afraid of what conversation will ensue when he does.

She smiles at the Doctor. "You remember that day at Bad Wolf Bay." It's not a question. She knows he does - maybe even more clearly than she does. "You almost told me something at the end of our goodbye, before you were cut off. Something you never told me before."

"Rose," he says softly, "if you want me to say it - "

"And then," she continues, ignoring him, "again, when you were leaving me with John, I told you to finish the sentence. You asked if it needed saying." She sighs. "Maybe it did. I know I wanted you to say it."

"I wanted to tell you," he whispers. "I had to leave you there. I couldn't just say it. It would have made it that much worse for both of us. You know that."

"I know," she replies. "And I don't need to hear it, even now. I just wanted to say . . . I wanted to say that it's okay, you know, that you didn't say it in the end. I knew. I still know."

The Doctor can't speak. He doesn't know what it will do to him when he loses her. She strokes his cheek and pushes back his hair, smiling sadly. "I'm just glad I got to see you again."

The words _one last time _seem to hang in the air.

She asks for John then, and the Doctor leaves, sending in her husband. John rushes to her. He doesn't give a damn what went on in the last few minutes. He just wants to be beside her. "Rose," he says intently. She doesn't answer, but only looks at him for a moment.

When she finally speaks, it's slow and precise. "I know it's been difficult - seeing me with him again. I know I don't make it easy."

"You don't have to - "

"Yes, I do," she admonishes, and he's silent. "I want you to know that I love you." She takes his hand. "I loved him once, when I knew him. There will always be a part of me that still loves him, but that day on Bad Wolf Bay . . . the second time . . . you told me what he never could. And I realized that it was you I wanted to spend the rest of my life with."

He closes his eyes. It feels as though a tremendous weight has been lifted from him. They sit together for a while more, and he kisses her, not a passionate kiss, or a needy one, but one that tells her he'll be with her right through the very end.

Eventually the Doctor comes back in, and they wait.

She falls back asleep, but it isn't fitful this time. Her breathing is deep and even, and her face is peaceful. There's no worrying left to be done.

It's around midnight when her breathing starts to slow, and finally ceases entirely.

o0O0o

It's around four in the morning, and the Doctor and John sit in the control room, not looking at each other. Their pink and yellow human is in her room still. The TARDIS is silent. She's been parked on Bad Wolf Bay for now, and the only sound to be heard is the waves crashing outside.

Soon they'll move Rose, or take the TARDIS somewhere else, or even speak. Soon, they're sure. Just not now.

1100 years seems like nothing now. The Doctor is sure he's lived it twenty times over by now since midnight. Even after her final words to him, he wishes he'd told her the words he's longed to say. He wishes there was a way to tell her now. _Rose Tyler,_ he thinks. "How was that sentence going to end?" she asked that day. _I love you_, he tells her silently. _It ended with I love you. _

He's never felt more human. She always had that effect on him.

John doesn't know what to do. He's got no idea of where he goes from here. He hasn't ever been without Rose Tyler. Even now, he feels like she'll walk into the control room at any moment, eyes shining in anticipation of their next journey. To live alone? He can't travel with the Doctor. There are too many things stopping him. Outside of that, though . . .

It takes them both a while to realize how silent it is. Their thoughts have been talking too loudly. But there's a cheeky London accent they're expecting - one they're never going to hear again.

o0O0o

"Listen, Horace, you know you owe me a favor anyway - "

"Do you think I have time for this? I can't build you something this extreme, Doctor, not without _months _of planning - "

"Then take months. You know it'll be five minutes for me."

Horace sighs, his belly wobbling as he does so. His blue Jormanthi skin is faded with age, but the Doctor knows that on the whole planet of Jormanth, Horace is the best crystal worker, and Rose deserves the best. "Come back in February, then," Horace tells him, and the Doctor nods, racing back into the TARDIS and setting the coordinates.

John looks at him expectantly, a dead look in his eyes. It's been two days, and they've been spent trying to decide the best way to honor her. "Well?"

"February. It'll be done by then."

"Hurry."

They land exactly when Horace instructed, and when they emerge, it's waiting for them. It takes both John and the Doctor to haul it back into the TARDIS, and after profuse thanks to Horace, they're off to Norway. It's a place of their most bitter memories, and they aren't even in the right universe. But they've come to a sort of silent agreement that they're going to leave Rose in Bad Wolf Bay. There are happier places they could have chosen, but Dårlig Ulv-Stranden, they know, is where they can remember her the most clearly, and where she has the strongest connection to both of them.

Horace has made them a tomb - a tomb fit for a queen. It's worked out of white quartz, with a glass top, built tall and strong and engraved with thousands of roses. Rose's name is carved in Gallifreyan at the foot. It seems too simple, but neither of them could think of what else to say. It's all been said before, anyway.

Rose has been embalmed and dressed in white, and now they take her from her room for the first time, John carrying her as the Doctor follows. Her face is peaceful, as if she were still asleep. John lays her down on the white pillows on the inside of the tomb, and the Doctor sets a perception filter. All anyone will see if they come to Dårlig Ulv-Stranden is a simple inscription on a stone set in the sand. They carry her outside, and the day is dark. The waves crash on the beach in a fury; a storm is setting in. John and the Doctor move to the spot they know best on the beach and set her down.

Even in the gloomy weather, Rose looks serene and beautiful. They look at her for a moment, unsure of what can be said or done. They'll be back here now and then to see her, but there's a sense of finality here. Once they leave her, she won't belong to them anymore. It will truly be over.

It isn't one of them that makes the first noise, though. A strange, quiet sound carries over the wind, and they're almost sure they're imagining it at first. But it grows stronger, until the Doctor realizes what it is. "The TARDIS," he breathes. The TARDIS is singing. It's unearthly and beautiful, and the closest to human she's ever sounded as the police box. The melody is heartbreaking.

Words seem empty and unnecessary. Rose's hair blows in the wind as they watch her, time seeming to stop around this point. Finally, John chokes out, "Thank you."

It's not much, but it's just enough. He kisses her one last time. The Doctor takes her hand and holds it to his lips, knowing he won't be able to say anything or do anything more.

They put the glass lid on top of her. The perception filter doesn't affect them, and they take in the sight of their pink and yellow human, defender of the earth, valiant child.

And when the TARDIS' song has ceased, they turn back to the lonely universe.

* * *

**A/N: Reviews are to bananas as bashing is to pears. Be kind, please.**


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